ter
flows and tall trees grow, So long here on this spot by his sad tomb
abiding, I shall declare to passers-by that Midas sleeps below.'

Now in this rhyme whether a line comes first or comes last, as you will
perceive, makes no difference.

PHAEDRUS: You are making fun of that oration of ours.

SOCRATES: Well, I will say no more about your friend's speech lest I
should give offence to you; although I think that it might furnish many
other examples of what a man ought rather to avoid. But I will proceed
to the other speech, which, as I think, is also suggestive to students
of rhetoric.

PHAEDRUS: In what way?

SOCRATES: The two speeches, as you may remember, were unlike; the one
argued that the lover and the other that the non-lover ought to be
accepted.

PHAEDRUS: And right manfully.

SOCRATES: You should rather say 'madly;' and madness was the argument of
them, for, as I said, 'love is a madness.'

PHAEDRUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And of madness there were two kinds; one produced by human
infirmity, the other was a divine release of the soul from the yoke of
custom and convention.

PHAEDRUS: True.

SOCRATES: The divine madness was subdivided into four kinds, prophetic,
initiatory, poetic, erotic, having four gods presiding over them; the
first was the inspiration of Apollo, the second that of Dionysus, the
third that of the Muses, the fourth that of Aphrodite and Eros. In the
description of the last kind of madness, which was also said to be
the best, we spoke of the affection of love in a figure, into which we
introduced a tolerably credible and possibly true though partly erring
myth, which was also a hymn in honour of Love, who is your lord and also
mine, Phaedrus, and the guardian of fair children, and to him we sung
the hymn in measured and solemn strain.

PHAEDRUS: I know that I had great pleasure in listening to you.

SOCRATES: Let us take this instance and note how the transition was made
from blame to praise.

PHAEDRUS: What do you mean?

SOCRATES: I mean to say that the composition was mostly playful. Yet in
these chance fancies of the hour were involved two principles of which
we should be too glad to have a clearer description if art could give us
one.

PHAEDRUS: What are they?

SOCRATES: First, the comprehension of scattered particulars in one idea;
as in our definition of love, which whether true or false certainly gave
clearness and consistency to the discourse, the speaker should defi